You say "the city" and expect everyone to know which one. You have never been to The Tower or Madame Tussauds but love Brighton. You can get into a four-hour argument about how to get from Shepherds Bush to Elephant & Castle at 3:30 on the Friday before a long weekend, but can't find Dorset on a map. Hookers and the homeless are invisible. You step over people who collapse on the tube. You believe that being able to swear at people in their own language makes you multi-lingual. You've considered stabbing someone. Your door has more than three locks. Your favourite movie has Hugh Grant in it. You consider eye contact an act of overt aggression. You call an 8' x 10' plot of patchy grass a garden. You know where Karl Marx is buried. You consider Essex the "countryside" You think Hyde Park is "nature." You're paying Ã‚Â£1,200 a month for a studio the size of a walk-in wardrobe and you think it's a "bargain." Shopping in suburban supermarkets and shopping malls gives you a severe attack of agoraphobia. You've been to Tooting twice and got hopelessly lost both times. You pay more each month to park your car than most people in the UK pay in rent. You haven't seen more than twelve stars in the night sky since you went camping as a kid. You own hiking boots and a 4WD vehicle, neither of which have ever touched dirt. You haven't heard the sound of true absolute silence since 1977, and when you did, it terrified you. You pay Ã‚Â£3 without blinking for a beer that cost the bar 28p. You actually take fashion seriously. Being truly alone makes you nervous. You have 27 different menus next to your telephone. The UK west of Heathrow is still theoretical to you. You're suspicious of strangers who are actually nice to you. You haven't cooked a meal since helping mum last Christmas with the turkey. Your idea of personal space is no one actually standing on your toes. Ã‚Â£50 worth of groceries fit in one paper bag. You have a minimum of five "worst cab ride ever" stories. You don't hear sirens anymore. You've mentally blocked out all thoughts of the city's air quality and what it's doing to your lungs. You live in a building with a larger population than most towns. Your cleaner is Russian, your grocer is Korean, your deli man is Israeli, your landlord is Italian, your laundry guy is Chinese, your favourite bartender is Irish, your favourite diner owner is Greek, the watch-seller on your corner is Senegalese, your last cabbie was Pakistani, your newsagent is Indian and your favourite falafel guy is Egyptian. You wouldn't want to live anywhere else until you get married. You say 'mate' constantly Anyone not from London is a '******' Anyone from outside London and north of the Watford Gap is a 'Northern ******' You have no idea where the North is. You see All Saints in the Met Bar (again) and find it hard to get excited about it. The countryside makes you nervous Somebody speaks to you on the tube and you freak out thinking they are a stalker. You talk in postcodes. "God, it was really warm round SW1 the other day" You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from London.